**Chapter 1: The Call of Elysian**
Autumn was shedding the year's weariness with its yellowing leaves. The sky, preparing for the same cycle, seemed rejuvenated. There was a crisp but cold air. Only a few people were out enjoying this weather. Most, like us, had retreated indoors. I pulled my gaze from the window and scanned the inside. The aroma of fresh coffee was comforting. The spacious room, adorned in shades of brown, had walls made of terracotta bricks. Not a single table was empty. Some were playing games like Jenga or Uno in groups, others were plugged into their laptops with headphones on.
At the table next to ours, a man in his late thirties with a handlebar mustache was ranting about how the world had gone mad, his claims seemingly confirmed by a theft story being discussed at the table behind us. But the conversation that truly caught my attention was happening at the table diagonally behind me. "Everyone's obsessed with me!" lamented a girl, whose face I couldn't see, but I was sure she wasn't older than twenty. There was a clear frustration in her voice, trying to mask a deeper hurt. "Ask them, and they all hate me, but can't stop talking about me day and night. And they have the nerve to criticize what I do or wear without looking at themselves first? I guess the world is filled with God's deputies, everyone thinking they have the right to judge..." She cut herself off suddenly. I resisted the urge to turn around and see what she was doing, but her genuine words and anger made me smile. My dad's letter from two days ago echoed in my head, saying if the number of your enemies increases, it means you've succeeded. I guess she really had.
Focusing back on my own table rather than eavesdropping,
I hadn't even sipped my coffee before looking up at Çağın sitting across from me. The first thing I noticed was his amber eyes, unable to settle, radiating tension. His fingers, running through his brown hair, were trembling, and he kept looking around as if searching for someone. The scarf of suspicion seemed to be tightening around his neck, as he rubbed it trying to relax and took a deep breath. His legs, hidden under the table, must have been jittering with unease.
He hadn't touched his dessert. In all the years of our enduring friendship, I'd never seen him too anxious to eat sweets. Something was really off today. It seemed like the others wanted to pretend they didn't notice our friend's condition.
Ayça, sitting next to Çağın, and Melek, next to me, were engrossed in their conversation. Okan, at the head of the table, had one ear on us and eyes on his phone. Ayça's laughter, as she placed her hand on Çağın's shoulder in response to Melek's story, made him flinch, finally drawing everyone's attention to him. "What's wrong?" Ayça asked, pointing out his distracted state.
Çağın forced a smile, "Just thinking."
Ayça curved her lips in satisfaction, teasing, "What about?"
Despite my dismissive head shake to the contrary, all eyes turned to me. Melek disapproved, Okan smirked, and Çağın seemed too drained to comment further. Ayça... I genuinely despised that girl! We all knew she had been clinging to our friend for months just to benefit from his popularity, and her audacity, despite knowing we were aware, was unsettling. She could at least pretend to care a bit about Çağın.
It was clear Çağın didn't really mind any of this. Perhaps he tolerated everyone at this table just to kill time. After all, he was so indifferent to the world that he sometimes said things like, "You're really misusing your world." It was as if his world was beyond our realms, and he was here to greet us, soon to return after a brief visit. I'm sure he believed in aliens and thought he was one of them.
Our perspectives were always different. Yet, there was an inexplicable attraction I felt towards Çağın. Among all these people, he was my only real connection, and I knew he felt the same.
Melek jumped in, trying to divert the awkwardness. "What were you thinking about so deeply to jolt at a touch?"
"Surely not Ayça," I quipped, causing Okan to burst out laughing. Okan and Ayça only shared their dark complexions and brown eyes. Both were driven by power and prestige, caring little for others' feelings or worth. Seeing Okan mock Ayça today wouldn't surprise anyone if they became close later on. I doubted Ayça would mind such hypocrisy.
"Let's hear it from him."
Çağın began, "Imagine..." his voice trailed off. "You're in a fairy tale, where everything you deem impossible becomes possible."
Okan laughed, "You're tripping."
"Where did that come from?" Melek asked when Çağın just shrugged.
He often asked me, "If you were in a place where everything you said was impossible became possible..." So, without hesitation, I asked, "What would you do in such a scenario?"
"I'd want to see a flying bear," he replied, leaving us staring blankly for a moment before we all burst into laughter.
"Look at this guy, enters a fairy tale and first thing he wants is a flying bear," Okan joked. I asked him, "What would you want?"
"To own the kingdom," he said, his eyes sparkling more than the metal earring in his ear.
"And you?" I directed at Melek, but Ayça interjected, "Obviously, I'd be the princess."
Pfft, princess of my shoe...
"I," said Melek, playing with her jet-black curls, "would be a simple girl, far from any drama, if possible."
"Boring and aimless," Ayça commented.
Melek, ever the peacemaker, simply replied, "Actually, just a preference."
"Who would you want to be?" Çağın turned the question on me.
Shrugging, I said, "Myself."
He smiled at that, but a notification on his phone wiped it away. His attention was entirely on his device. As he read the message, I could tell he was biting his cheek thoughtfully. When he looked up, our eyes met. He seemed caught in the act, holding his breath momentarily before shifting his gaze away.
"Let's go," Melek touched my shoulder, indicating it was time for class.
As I stood, making eye contact with Çağın, I nodded. "I'll text you after class, let's go together." The underlying "We need to talk" was understood by all. Çağın blinked in acknowledgment as Melek and I left.
"You're too hard on her," Melek said, referring to Ayça.
"I don't like her." She knew that, everyone did, including Ayça. Ayça was blind enough to think her father's money elevated her, selfish and egotistical enough to harm others. If I hadn't stood my ground, she would've looked down on me for being an orphan.
"Why do you even hang out then?"
"Because
she clings to us?"
"Don't..." Melek turned briefly. "You know we wouldn't let her near if you didn't want."
I stopped walking, questioning what she meant. Arguing in the middle of the corridor wasn't ideal, as evidenced by the annoyed murmurs of passing students. So, when Melek stepped aside, I followed, leaning against the wall to face her.
"You don't like Ayça, but you enjoy having her around," she accused.
"Nonsense," I laughed off her absurd claim. "Why would I enjoy having someone I dislike around?"
"We've had this conversation, and you yelled at me," she reminded, hurt flashing in her eyes.
I couldn't stand being wrongly accused, often losing my temper over it. So, when I expressed my disdain for Ayça's constant presence and Melek suggested, "Her being a bad person makes you feel better about yourself. You think you're so much better than her, which is why, deep down, you actually like having her around..." linking this to my childhood struggles of constantly proving myself, it infuriated me. It wasn't an excuse for yelling at her, hence my repeated apologies, "I'm sorry."
Her sincere smile, eyes sparkling, suggested, "Let's drop it."
"Agreed," I smiled back. "Go to class, I need the restroom."
"Can I come with?"
"No need, see you in class." I walked backward, "Okay," she agreed, heading to class as I turned and strode away.
Reaching the restroom, I pushed open the door with my shoulder. Luckily, it was empty. After locking the door, I turned on the faucet. While soaping my hands, I glanced at my reflection. I had a tough demeanor; my eyebrows were perpetually furrowed, my lashes rebelliously long. Even the slight blush on my cheeks couldn't soften my harshness, nor could my usually straight pink lips. My long, auburn hair was admired by everyone, but the smug glint in my green eyes often garnered disdain.
Was I born of hatred?
I rinsed my hands under the cold water, enjoying the sensation. Perhaps I was the child of freedom, capable of shedding all constraints in an instant?
Someone tried the door, knocked, and a shrill voice called out. I didn't respond, ignoring the complaints that followed. Maybe... Indifference was my true mother.
I reapplied soap, lathering my hands as the sink began to fill. I didn't turn off the water.
My mother could be anyone, anywhere, but it didn't matter to me. I had a stepfather to prove to that his investment in my education wasn't wasted. He was distant. Although I'd dreamed of a happy family upon hearing I was adopted, I'd never met my parents face to face. I didn't even know where they lived. Yet, I was obligated to send them letters weekly, to which they'd reply with directives: "Enroll in this high school, study in this city, join these clubs, stay in this dormitory," ending with "We trust you, don't disappoint us." I complied, not wanting to let them down. Their demands were no different from any other parents'. The best part was being friends with Çağın. The odd part was the major they wanted me to study. I wish I had read that letter in front of a mirror. The expression on my face, holding the letter, muttering, "Sumerology? Really?" would have been priceless.
Nonetheless, I was now a second-year Sumerology student.
Melek pitied my situation, but my sole friend Vera thought it was awesome. Truthfully, I agreed.
After turning off the faucet and drying my hands, I unlocked the door. Apologizing to the girl waiting outside, I hurried to class. The corridor, slightly less crowded than before, still felt suffocating with people bumping into me.
Entering the large classroom, no different from the corridor, I scanned the room before heading to where Melek and Vera sat in the middle. Vera, with a strand of her long black hair braided, had applied light makeup to brighten her pale skin. Her lack of black rimmed glasses today was unusual. The black pleated skirt and white blouse with a square neckline... She was unusually dressed up for an ordinary day.
As I sat, I teased, "What's the occasion?"
She shrugged while sipping from her bright red thermos. "Felt like it."
"There must be a special reason?"
"Since when do you grill me like this?" she retorted, and I shrugged nonchalantly. She'd eventually come to me, excited to share whatever happened. This had been our routine since childhood. Vera was my only real connection, not dictated by my family. She was the restless little girl in the top bunk at the orphanage, keeping the red-haired girl below awake.
Pushing the thermos back, I complained, "Laurel tea again..." "How can you drink these herbal teas without sugar, Vera?" She just took the thermos, sipping contentedly, ignoring my question.
When the professor arrived, Vera, the class "nerd," began taking notes. We all had good grades, but I couldn't learn in class. I preferred studying from my notes. Vera, however, noted down everything, even the professor's greetings.
Melek and I eventually lost interest, spending half an hour on our phones. Bored, I attempted to distract Vera, but paused momentarily. I thought I saw yellow strands in her black hair and blue specks in her black eyes. Blinking away the illusion, I faced her.
Feeling my gaze, she whispered, "What's up?"
"For a moment, I thought your eyes were blue."
She brushed it off, "Must be the light," and returned to her notes.
After class, Vera hurriedly stood, saying, "I'll have a lot to tell you tomorrow!" before dashing out. I just smiled. Vera must have met someone new, but her happiness was what mattered.
Melek, gathering her things, mentioned, "I'll stop by my mom's before heading to the dorm. Can you submit this petition to the principal?" Taking the paper she placed before me, I nodded affirmatively. She waved goodbye and left. After reading the room allocation request form, I tucked it into my bag and exited the classroom.
I intended to call Çağın but he messaged first, sending his location near the café we'd been at earlier.
Reaching him took about ten minutes. He was alone, hands in pockets, leaning against a trash bin, head bowed. Unaware of my approach, he kicked at the ground. To get his attention, I called out, "Çağın?"
He looked up, our eyes meeting. His silent stare was unsettling, though I couldn't name the feeling it provoked. It made me raise my eyebrows and avert my gaze briefly. Clasping my hands in front of me, I realized too late why I felt this way. "Hi..." I broke the awkward silence.
His struggle to say "Hi" seemed absurd. I'd noticed his odd behavior since morning and decided not to dwell on it. "Are you okay? You seem tense," I asked.
He began, "Listen without interrupting." This piqued my curiosity and a sense of unease hovered over me. I
frowned, "I'm listening," as he continued, "You know I'd never hurt you. You'll understand my weird behavior soon. You might get scared, but try to stay calm and please don't run away-"
I interrupted with laughter, though not feeling entirely at ease. My laugh hid my nerves. His serious expression made me raise my hands, "Sorry, didn't mean to interrupt... But seriously, Çağın, what a way to start!" I cleared my throat, trying to regain composure. "Please, continue."
"I'm serious," he grumbled. I knew he was, which annoyed and slightly unnerved me. Not just tense, he was also acting strange...
I've always been good at reading emotions, easily sensing what people feel. I noticed Çağın's tension peak this morning. His furrowed brows and tense facial expressions, along with his rapid breathing, were clear signs. Beside this tension, there was an excitement in his eyes, an impatient sparkle.
Eagerly, I prompted, "I'm listening," but he didn't resume. As a black car swiftly pulled up beside us, he produced a cloth from his pocket and pressed it to my nose.
Shocked by his unexpected action, I struggled to grasp the situation. My resistance was futile; my vision blurred, and I couldn't recall what I saw last, but my feeling was vivid: it felt like my last day on Earth.
